Who are you?
by SuffocatingRomano
Summary: (Kept for storage purposes) Hands. Big, large, soft hands, trailing a thin, tiny body, almost glass in proportion. Consent Alfred/Matthew, rape Arthur/Matthew


((Arthur/Matthew, rape. Alfred/Matthew, consent. It kinda got fucked up when I translated it from AbiWord to Word, so there might be some mistakes or weird enters when there shouldn't be. I tried to skim over and fi it, but...yeah. Also. I used Google Translate a few times, but some of the stuff I knew myself, so there might be some mistakes.))

[Qui êtes-vous? = Who are you?]

"Alfred...sweet Alfred..."

But I'm not Alfred. I'm not.

"Matthew..."

Hands. Big, large, soft hands, trailing a thin, tiny body, almost glass in proportion. Tonight. Tonight would be the night. The night they finally took that extra step. A leap of faith, so to say.

"Matthew, Matthew...your so-

_-soft."_

_Large, purple Canadian eyes. Pursed lips, sucking so sweetly on a treat so fine. Lollipop. A much younger man had bought him it. An Englishmen. His father. Yet not._

_The Canadian blinked up at the larger man. It still amazed him-the man-how much the boy looks like his one and only Alfred. Alfred, sweet Alfred. Who was so untouchable._

_The Canadian opened his mouth, and for a second, the Englishmen thought he'd thank him._

_"Qui êtes-vous?"'_

_Don't say that, little boy. The Englishmen blinked._

_"I'm-"_

_"Qui êtes-vous?"_

"Matthew, MATTHEW!"

Climaxing. He's climaxing. Matthew had hardly even began pumping him with his fists.

And some how, yet again, he was hard instantly.

"...Matthew-

_-SHUT UP!"_

_Such a tight grip. Qui êtes-vous,_

_Qui êtes-vous, who are you, who are you, and why are you so /angry/, my fair Englishmen?_

_Why are you choking a tiny Canadian?_

_"It's not enough, not enough that you look like my Al-"_

_"Q-Qui-"_

_"SHUT UP! It's not enough that you look like my Alfred, MY Alfred, oh no, no, you forget my name, but your not alone, you and your FUCKING frog of a father, no, oh no-"_

_"Q-Qu-"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

The large American bent down to return the pleasure, but, gently, Matthew pushed him down, right back to pleasuring in a heart beat.

"W-wait...Matthew, I want to-

_-worship his body. But I can't. That'd be bad. Bad of me. But you, you don't know my fucking name, you won't remember this."_

_"Qu-"_

_"SHUT UP! At least, at least you do look like him, this way, this way I can push my anger on you, you fucking imposter."_

_Such a /tight/ little grip on his wrists, having moved from his neck. Didn't wanna KILL him, after all, not that that'd kill a country, but still._

_And...the Englishmen is right. He DOES look like Alfred, even naked, but...there's a softer hue to it. Like he should be a girl, where as Alfred is very distinctly male._

_But still, the Englishmen took what he got, grabbing, grabbing everything over the boys body._

_"Qu-"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

"No, NO!"

Crying, why are you crying? The larger male froze, and the Canadian-quick as a wink-pulled his legs inward, curling up, shaking, shaking.

"Please, no, no, Dieu, Dieu, q-q-qui êt-t-t-tes-vous-s..."

"...Matthew, what's-

_-wrong, imposter?"_

_Finally. The boy finally knew how grave this was as soon as the Englishmen pushed into the tiny naked body, tearing along the way._

_"S-s'il vous plait, s'il vous plait!"_

_But the man wasn't listening, focusing on how tight he his, how tight his Alfred would be._

_"Oh...oh, oh Alfred-"_

_"S-s'il v-v-vous p-plaît, qui ête-"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

An American clothed himself in an effort to calm a Canadian, eyes wide.

"M-Matthew, please, what's-"

"Qui êtes-vous, qui êtes-vous, q-qui êtes-vous..."

"I-I don't know...I don't know what-

_-to do to make you remember me. I'm fucking you, bloody fucking you, and still you-"_

_"Q-qu-"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

_Quickened thrusting, faster panting, I say he's close to cumming._

_Ah, but the boy just can't shut up, can he? Qui êtes-vous, qui êtes-vous, what is wrong with him?_

_But also, what is wrong with that Englishmen, fucking a child?_

_"Q-qu-"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

"Just...just go! Please, please..."

"Matthew-"

"Qui e-I mean, please, just go!"

"But I want to-

_-be with you, Alfred. Why can't I just be with you?"_

_His voice dulled as he came. How peculiar. Just an edge of sadness._

_He looked down, the silly man, and was about to smile when he stopped. Oh ever more perculiar this is._

_"...who are you?"_

_It took minutes before the Canadian realized he was being talked to, but then, he is in pain._

_"...who are you?"_

"Who am I? Who am I?"

Matthew laughed, the nails on his hands scrapping his legs so hard he was drawling blood. He choked on a sob, and continued.

"Who am I? Who am I? Qui êtes-vous?"

_"Come on Alfred. I'll wash you."_

_The Canadian was dragged to his feet like a rag doll. So weightless._

_"You are so amazingly beautiful, Alfred. So beautiful. I'm sorry I hurt you, but your just so beautiful."_

_"Qui-"_

_"SHUT UP!..anyway, I'll wash you up, good an nice Alfred. My Alfred, little little Alfred."_

_And he was then drawling a bath! Silly Englishmen, that ain't your American. But, who is it?_

_The Englishmen looked up the dreamy face on again, till he stopped, staring at the...Canadian?_

_"...who are you?"_

_"Qui-"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

"Who am I? Who am I?"

"Matthew-"

"Who am I?"


End file.
